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I wasn’t sure why it made my blood pressure skyrocket just hearing Mitch say that. “I could tell it grossed you out when Zach mentioned it.”
Mitch furrowed his brow, turning and looking at me like my head had suddenly sprouted frog legs. “What? It didn’t gross me out at all,” he said. He pulled in a deep breath. “It… scared me, actually. Because it felt kind of true.”
I watched Mitch. He was so close to me on the couch that if I moved another inch to the side, our legs would touch. All at once I desired that closeness more than anything and also knew that I could potentially ruin everything if I closed the gap.
“Why is that scary?” I asked. It was a simple question, but it held my entire fucking world in it.
“Because everything is scary,” Mitch said, looking straight ahead into the middle distance. He looked more exhausted than I’d ever seen him, even more tired than after any football game. “I just got divorced after fifteen years. I… Ev, I don’t even really know how to be myself outside of that relationship, because it was all I dedicated myself to for so long. I was trying so hard to be the perfect husband, the perfect parent. And I never felt good enough.”
I reached out and let my hand rest on Mitch’s forearm. I didn’t care anymore about awkwardness. It was clear that Mitch needed comfort right now, regardless of how he saw me.
And he knew he needed it, too. Immediately he brought his hand to mine, laying his palm over the back of my hand and squeezing.
“You were always good enough. To both of them,” I said.
He nodded. “I did my best. But now that I’m on my own, I feel like I’m just starting to get to know myself. That make sense?”
“It definitely makes sense.”
He ran one of his big hands through his hair. “Hell, I don’t even know how to cook dinners for myself and Zach. I’m like a fish out of water.”
“Hey, we all have things we are good at,” I said, squeezing his arm a little tighter. “Maybe you can’t cook chicken piccata, or solve geometry proofs. But I sure as fuck can’t score a touchdown or do 100 push-ups in a row.”
He finally smiled, just slightly. “You could totally do 100 push-ups. All it takes is practice.”
“Exactly,” I said. “Same with everything. Even learning how to be yourself outside of your marriage. Mitch, you married her when you were barely eighteen. You’ve never known what it’s like to be an adult without being married. It’s going to take some time. Practice.”
“Coach always used to say that I expected to be perfect at everything too quickly,” he said.
“Hell, that wasn’t just your coach, dude. I used to say that every time you expected to understand math problems instantly. You wanted to tackle things like a bear instead of giving them time to make sense.”
“You’re right,” he said. His eyes were still glassy and strained, even if he had calmed down a bit. It killed me to see Mitch like this. He was typically so even-keeled, so content and happy. Most people in his situation would have been having breakdowns every night, but for Mitch, this was about as close to a breakdown as it got.
“This is going to sound really cheesy, so prepare yourself,” I said.
“Oh no,” he groaned, meeting my eyes.
“Are you ready?”
“I don’t know if I’ll ever be.”
I smiled. “Well, you’re not ending this night without me saying a really cheesy thing, and I hope you’re going to appreciate it.”
He nudged me a little with his shoulder, and just like back in high school, that small amount of contact was enough to make my heart squeeze in my chest.
“Just say it, weirdo,” he told me.
I paused for a moment, just watching him. I reached out to run my hand through his fucking unfairly thick and soft hair.
“Everything is going to be okay,” I said. “That’s all there is to it. I don’t care how cheesy it sounds, it’s the truth. You’re doing so, so fucking well.”
He tilted his head to one side. “That isn’t so cheesy, Ev,” he said softly. “Thank you.”
“Well, I mean it, shithead.”
“Don’t call me a shithead when you’re trying to comfort me,” he said, a smile quirking up on one side of his mouth.
“I’ll call you whatever I want, whenever I want.”
“And I’ll allow it, because you’re my favorite person,” he said.
Without warning, he leaned forward, pressing his lips to mine in a kiss. I let out a little surprised gasp, my eyes fluttering shut.
It was different from any of the other times he’d kissed me. It was chaste and simple, and Mitch had so clearly done it without thinking at all. Like it was perfectly natural that he’d lean in and kiss me, with no deliberation or hesitation.
